Poems and OneShots
by Ares Is Awesome
Summary: Here is where my poems and oneshots will go. If you really like a oneshot, I may be persuaded to keep it up, but only after my story is done. This will be added to at my leisure. Rated for one certain oneshot, to be safe. Just added the oneshot Flowers.
1. The Opener

The Opener

* * *

The Poem has been started.

To write it, I'm kind-hearted.

It is time for it to be read,

As some things are better not said.

-

It is time to read,

Time to read,

Time to read.

-

For the readers, this was made,

Sorry if they are cliched.

But I cannot help the tricking,

Or the siccing, siccing, siccing,

While a reader may be picking,

In their brain the words are sticking.

As my readers sit in awe,

Of my Poem's Law.

-

The poem's getting better,  
Getting better,  
Getting better.

-

If the readers could just see.

That reviews make me happy.

They would not forget the catching,

Of words matching, matching, matching,

When a new poem is hatching,

The words from my brain am snatching.

All my readers sit in awe,

Of my Poem's Law.

-

You are glad you clicked here,  
Glad you clicked here,  
Glad you clicked here.

-

When the words in your head drilled,

And I'm in the writer's guild,

You can not ignore the snapping,

And the clapping, clapping, clapping,

When some fools they may be yapping,

To the words you are a-rapping.

This line now concludes the awe,

Of the Poem's Law.

* * *

I bet you liked that. Maybe. Well, here's the Disclaimer. 

**I don't own The Underland Chronicles, if I did, I would not leave my readers hanging at the end of the series.**

And the Table of Contents.

* * *

**TABLE OF CONTENTS**

Poetry

Intro) The Opener

2) Post-War Reflections

3) Looking Forward

4) To The End

5) Soaring

6) Free

7) Gone

9) I Don't Want This

-

One-Shots

8) Fights

10) What Have I Done?

(Warning: #10 is not for the weak-stomached people with vivid imaginations)

11) I be Temp, I be.

12) Flowers


	2. PostWar Reflections

My wounds, once deep and bloody,

My clothes once bloodstained red.

The ground, from blood once muddy,

From all who lay here, dead.

-

The losses we suffered are many,

To win this wretched fight.

Our numbers now are few, if any.

So we could drain their light.

-

The injured heal, though tears still flowing,

From those who mourn the passed.

Though, at least our fire's still glowing,

How long, though, will it last?

-

The peace is undecided yet,

The meeting not adjourned.

For our future, I still fret,

As my friends are still mourned.

-

My friend, my best,

Has no more breath.

My bond, at rest,

Embraced by death.

-

Thinking of my remaining few,

The group I still hold dear.

And for all those dead that I once knew,

I shed a simple tear.

-

We must find a way to escape,

The past that still torments.

Plays the scene as movie tape,

In my heart, now filled with dents.


	3. Looking Forward

My deathday has been iminent

For a year, or so it seems

Just time enough to repent

Too late for any 'dreams'

-

That wretched man, he trapped me

Some four hundered years ago

The future, Sandwich can see

Or at least, they say so.

-

At least as I go dying

I'll give this land a gift

The 'Monster' who's been lying

In skull, I make a rift.

-

And my final words uttered,

As my blood is spilling fast

Crying, my voice is stuttered

And 'Ares' is my last.

-

This is how I did think it

Until three weeks from then

In a room with torches lit,

I truly breathe again.

-

But for my bond I can't say

That same and joyous tale

Ares the flier died that day

Poor bat, he's dead as a doornail.


	4. To The End

To the end

I will fight

To the end

No more light

To the end

That draws near

To the end

Fight the fear

To the end

I do swear

To the end

I'll be there

To the end

Fight for fair

To the end

I will care

To the end

My word's true

Past the end

I love you

* * *

Just a random poem that popped into my head as I named the previous one. 


	5. Soaring

Soaring.

Flying high.

Until our arrival.

We don't touch down.

Sailing free with my bond.

The air beneath us.

And the world.

Two are One.


	6. Free

Free as I have been ever before,

Burdened though am I

Free with my bond to in the air soar,

Though I'm set to die.

-

No chains or ties restrain me,

Not even in my prison

Once in the dark I can see,

My spirit'd greatly risen.

-

The army may think that I can

Be broken to their will

But I am becoming a man

Though being trained to kill.

-

My bond, he can keep me up

In mind, body, in soul

My flier is my backup

And he has kept me whole.

-

The one thing I held on to,

Is now embraced by death.

The Bane, it was my bond he slew

So I robbed him of breath.

-

Chest laid open, gasping

Dissolving is my cloudy vision

To life, I'm barely clasping,

Blood flows from my incision

-

After months of learning how to die

In this godforsaken war

The hardest thing to try

Is to learn to live once more.

-

At thirteen years of age,

I am too young, it seems

To be filled up with so much rage

And nightmares as my dreams.

-

After all that I've been through,

Sadly, I now see,

I do find now that it is true,

That I cannot be free


	7. Gone

Gone, they all have

Gone, leaving me

Gone, I'm all alone

Gone, it's empty.

Gone, it's hard

Gone, to

Gone, let

Gone, go

Gone, the ones I loved...

Gone, stolen

Gone, death took them

Gone, rejecting me

Gone, they all are

Gone, I'm solitary


	8. Fights

"Get ready, Pearlpet, the spinners are almost here." Ripred's commanding voice echoed in the small cavern. I really loathed the older rat; he was mean and had no regard for personal feelings, but there was no better gnawer to fight along side.

I took a deep sniff. Yes, spinners, though I couldn't tell how many. 

"How many are there?" I inquired. "I can't tell."

"Does it matter, you great white buffoon? They're going to be here, and you are going to be fighting them. And remember to watch out for poison fangs. We don't need your insides to become goo, do we?"

It took all of my self-control to not try to tear his throat out on the spot. I had a good three feet on him, but he was a thousand times a better fighter, being a rager and all.

"Here they are, Pearliegirlie, get ready," the rat warned. He crouched into fighting position, claws extended, mouth open. I knew he was about to begin spinning. He always spun, unless his intent was not to kill.

The first spinner dropped down, fangs ready to bite, but Ripred tore it to shreds before it could strike. At that time, dozens of spinners flooded the cave. I began to claw at them, whip at them with my tail. From his spin, Ripred called out to me, "You're not going to do much flailing at them like that, Pearlpet, get control!"

The rat's taunting put me in a state of fury. Roaring, I ripped a spinner in half with one claw.

"There we go, get mad, Pearlpet, get mad." Did Ripred just say something not hurtful? I paused a second in surprise, mouth open. A spinner shot some of its webbing at me, catching me in one eye.

I roared in pain. Oh, how it burned! I was down an eye now, which was not too bad since I could echo locate somewhat. I heard the echoes of a spinner headed right towards me, preparing to bite me in the face. I shut my eye in anticipation, ready for the pain.

But it never came. The spinner lay crumpled on the ground in front of me, nearly in half by the work of a rat's tail.

"Come on, Pearlie, you're going to have to do better than that!"

"I'm trying," I whined. "We all aren't ragers, you know!"

"But most of us are competent fighters," he countered.

With a growl, I leaped for the rat, only to be thrown off by his tail.

"Why don't you fight the ones who are trying to kill you, instead of the one trying to keep you alive?"

Angrily, I whipped out at one of the few remaining spinners with my tail, cutting it cleanly in half. The other spinners soon joined the pile of carcasses surrounding Ripred, who was taking out the last two spinners with his claws.

"Hmph," Ripred grunted, before counting the spinner corpses. "One, two,thr--no, I killed that one, too. Two. You killed two. Out of thirty-six. You killed one twenty-third of the spinners."

I contemplated ripping his head off, but there was no use. I'd fail at that, too.

"Let's go, Pearliegirlie, you've had enough today."


	9. I don't want this

Why do they ask me to do what I can't?

I am doomed for death.

Doomed for death for being born.

How is this my fault?

Ripred says in the Overland

All are treated the same.

Black or white, they are the same.

Why not down here?

So I am bigger, taller than the others.

Your point is?

I don't want to do this, I don't want this fate.

I don't want this life.

Twirlongue, do I have to?

I don't want to be king.


	10. What Have I Done?

Luxa woke up, relieving Gregor of his watch. Eager to sleep, he lay down. He was exhausted from the day's events. The pair had no idea where they were, just that they were on some small island in the middle of the waterway. Famished, they found some mushrooms, which Gregor ate. They had a wineskin of shrimp and cream sauce, but Gregor let Luxa have all of it.

Quickly, Gregor was asleep, but the dreams did not come as nicely as he would have hoped. He was fighting a rat, almost as good a fighter as Ripred, and just as big. He drew his sword.

* * *

Luxa could tell something was not right when Gregor stood up and drew his sword.

"What is it?" she asked, but got no response. "Gregor?"

Gregor raised his arm to strike.

* * *

The rat easily parried Gregor's first few blows, but oddly did not counter at all. His feet worked in a rapid motion, turning him in an intricate form of footwork. Rager mode was buzzing through his veins, though his vision didn't alter. He wasn't using his eyes at all.

* * *

Luxa had no idea what to do when Gregor started spinning; he seemed oblivious to everything.

"Gregor!"

No response. She could only parry his moves for so long, and wasn't about to attack him. In a last-ditch effort, she thrust her sword in the way of his. The blade flew off in the opposite direction, and it seemed as though Gregor was slowing down his spin.

* * *

His sword made solid contact with some part of the rat. A claw, maybe. He prepared to stop spinning and fight it head on. The Gnawer did not even seem to be parrying any more, as though it had given itself up for dead.

Gregor had no idea why he felt so satisfied to feel the flesh slice beneath his blade as he made a wide, slashing arc. Why did the blood spattering on him feel good?

* * *

It was not the deep gash from her chin to her left hip that pained Luxa the most. It was Gregor. Why was he like this?

She did not have much time left to ponder this, lying on the hard stone on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere in the waterway. Luxa took one deep breath, before letting herself die in peace.

* * *

Awakening to the world, Gregor found himself shocked to be standing up, bloodstained sword in hand. It wasn't a dream. Still-warm blood clung to the side of his face and his torso, sticky, slightly metallic tasting in his mouth. He came to his senses, straightening his fingers and allowing his sword to clatter to the ground.

It did not land with the expected ring, though. True, it clattered slightly, but not in the manner a sword should when dropped on the stone. Looking down, Gregor cried out in horror, realizing what he'd done.

"Luxa," he moaned, dropping to his knees. "Luxa…"

He found the queen with a huge gash all the way across her body, going in the mirrored angle of the streak of blood on his shirt.

"What have I done?" he cried, hugging her limp frame to his already blood-soaked shirt. Her head rolled backwards, the thin band of gold falling off with a slight tinkling.

Gregor knew he'd never be able to live with what he'd done, no way he'd be able to live without Luxa…

He grabbed up his sword, took a deep breath, and placed the tip to his chest. With three precise movements, he sliced a triangular patch of skin and muscle open. Blood gushed, and he knew he'd be dead soon. Good. But not good enough. Roaring in pain, both physical and emotional, Gregor stuck his hand in his chest and ripped out his heart. It still was beating in his hand for a few seconds before he went limp.


	11. I be Temp, I be

Scoff at me, humans do, scoff at me. Why, do they, why? Crawler, I be, crawler. Stupid, I be not, stupid. Scoffs not, the princess, scoffs not. Adore the princess, I do, adore the princess. Here comes she, the princess, here comes she. Ball, we play, ball. Sings beautifully, she does, sings beautifully. In the jungle, we are going, in the jungle. For the cure, we search, for the cure. How long, I know not, how long. See, I will, see. Hamnet, here is, Hamnet. Dead, he is not, dead. Now, we leave, now.

* * *

Hard to follow, maybe, but short. I thought someone might like to read something like this. 


	12. Flowers

He'd become a zombie, a hollow shell mindlessly performing the day-to-day tasks with no feeling. It seemed as though he'd left his mind in the Underland. But it would be impossible for him to go back. Technically, he could. His parents wouldn't mind too much, and he was certain the majority of the Underlanders would be glad to see him. His mind twitched in painful memory of a year ago this day.

He didn't cry. Gregor knew he could never cry again. Not since his last trip down, which had started out without trouble. Another picnic, some messing around. It had been fun, actually. It had been fun until...

He tried to shut the memories from his head. He tried to just go on with the day. Every single day was the same monotonous thing, yet it was so painful for him. So painful just to perform the regular functions of the day.

There were so many things that couldn't happen for Gregor to have a moderately normal day. He couldn't look at pictures. He couldn't see his scars, couldn't walk by a laundromat or Central Park. He couldn't look at anyone in his family, couldn't see a roach or a spider. Spiders especially were painful to look at.

Even staying in bed the whole day didn't help any. He ended up spending the whole time remembering, anyway. Remembering last year's nightmare. He didn't cry for them, though. Not anymore. That day was the last day he ever cried. He remembered it in painful clarity.

They'd just been messing around in some tunnels off the outskirts of the crawler lands, where it rubbed up against the spinners. The cave they had been eating in was stunning, lined with crystals that tossed the torchlight all over the cave in a fantastic spectrum of colors. It had been the five of them there, Luxa, Aurora, Howard, Nike, and himself. It actually was going to be a picnic this trip, too, not sneaking away.

The sidewalk beneath Gregor's feet rattled. He jolted, thinking it was another earthquake. A few people cast odd glances his way. Just a subway... Gregor couldn't even remember where he was going as memory absorbed him. The earthquake that had cut him and Luxa off from the others...

It had happened like that. The cave branched out into a few separate tunnels. The two were on the side of a collapsed rock wall with one tunnel, one tunnel they had not been down. It was the only way out, leading into unknown territory.

He must have stopped moving in the middle of an intersection. Some taxi drivers were cussing him out to the unmusical sound of car horns. He hurriedly made his way onto the sidewalk, but didn't keep walking after that. He leaned against the wall of a florist, unable to keep walking and think at the same time. And there was no way he would be able to block out the memories.

The winding tunnel lead on for hours with no sign of life or exit. The lantern they had died out awhile ago, forcing them to rely solely on Gregor's echolocation. It was all his fault... his fault he didn't see them... his fault she was dead. A pair of rogue spinners had slipped off of Gregor's radar, and he didn't notice they were there until it was too late.

Click. Nothing. Click. Nothing. Click. Nothing. Click. Nothing. Click click. Nothing. Click. A spinner in front and a spinner behind. There was no time to react.

His sword was drawn in an instant, but he was an instant too late. The scene replayed in horrifically detailed slow motion in Gregor's head.As he cleaved the front spinner in half, the one in back struck, lashing out at Luxa with poisonous fangs and striking her in the back. Gregor shouted as Luxa cried out in startled pain, but could not do anything except run his sword through the spider and bend down to his dying queen. 

Sobbing, Gregor realized that it would be impossible for him to stay here now. There was just no way. The only thing that held Gregor to the Underland was dying in his arms. The worst part was, he knew he couldn't save her. He just held on to her, a sense of helplessness overwhelming him. He stroked her face, which was significantly paler than he'd ever seen, the spinner venom coming into effect quickly. She was fading in and out of consciousness, eyes shut tight in pain.

The most awful thing Gregor had ever experienced was without a doubt those moments. It was the worst thing for him to look into her face as she gave his hand one weak final squeeze before relinquishing her grip on life forever, right in front of him. The last tears that would ever leave his eyes escaped him in floods. He hugged her so tightly, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to accept her death. He had no choice, after an hour, to make his way back to Regalia. He still did not leave her.

After what seemed like an eternal trek, Gregor staggered into the stone city. He was exhausted, but could not give Luxa up to anyone. The guards, mournful looking, tried to take her from him at the city gates, and again at the platform. Howard, who had made it back safely with the others, had insisted he get some rest. But Gregor would not have it. He help onto her tightly, tears coursing down his cheeks. He finally passed out into a heap in the middle of the High Hall.

It was dark out when Gregor came back to his senses. He stood up, picking a few dropped flowers off of the ground near him. He probably looked weird to anyone who saw him. Spaced-out looking guy, maybe fifteen, scruffy half-beard growing in on his face. Long sleeves and jeans in the middle of July. A few mismatched, somewhat wilting flowers in hand.He knew what he was doing, he knew his destination for a change.

It was unusual for anyone who saw but didn't know, for anyone who just walked by the spot. Towards the middle of Central Park, on a stone that seemed to be randomly selected, sat a small handful of mismatched flowers. A spaced-out looking guy, maybe fifteen, scruffy half-beard growing in on his face knelt in front of the spot. He seemed completely apethetic and uncaring towards whatever the world would dish out, a hollow shell. He belonged nowhere, and the only place he felt at home was in his mind, where he always stayed. Life had been unkind to Gregor the Overlander, and he showed to the world it by hiding himself from it.


End file.
